Kabul, T̶h̶e̶ ̶p̶a̶r̶i̶s̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶a̶s̶i̶a̶ ̶ the hubris of Asia

When the leaves turn brown
and the evenings bleed orange,
I'm robbed up by the admirers
of mountains, desserts, rivers,
bazaars and everything else.

I'm settled to be a paradise
with gun-lights on highways,
a castle indebted to freedom
and a pilgrimage invaded by,
once, twice, thrice, till every-
thing fades, while Soviet sighs.

Dine in the world library, and
trail migrating dynasties on
the snippets of my bare skin,
call me a coal-tar but you'll
excavate diamonds in men
on my lands while women
are hindered from rebels but
often preyed for their beauty.

The sky curls up in blue and
the autumn in auburn shades,
snow melts upon the empty
walls of exhausted palace, and
village huts carry too much.
I feel like I'm an ordinary city.

But I'm more than museums and
mausoleums, maybe a chronicle
of vague dates, millions of places,
obsolete tongues and unheard
wars, hungry for prayers and peace
yet served with another history.
~Kabul

©heartsease

@shreyah @phoenix_in_ashes thank you so much for helping me out ❤️
@sumiinked somehow, you encouraged me. Thank you ❤️

#start
References are taken from Wikipedia.